Depression, Cutting, Pain and Blood

In shadows deep, where anguish thrives, A poem dances, with cutting knives. Its verses etched in wounds so raw, Unveiling pain, our deepest flaw. Oh, melancholy, cruel and vast, Embrace my words, and hold them fast. Let them bleed upon this parchment white, A tale of darkness, a soul's endless fight. Within these lines, a heartache sways, A symphony of sorrow, a mournful haze. Where echoes of anguish, in silence weep, Embracing wounds, too painful deep. Cutting through the fabric of my soul, The blade of despair takes its heavy toll. Each incision, a secret plea, To ease the ache, to set me free. Oh, sorrow's tapestry, woven tight, Threads of longing, in shades of night. In every stanza, a tear I shed, A desperate whisper, where hope fades. But pause, dear reader, and look beyond, For hidden within lies a glimmer, a bond. For in this darkness, we find solace true, A testament of strength, a journey anew. Within the depths of pain and despair, Resides a resilience, a spirit aware. The scars may speak of battles fought, Yet within, a flicker of light is sought. For even in darkness, hope shall arise, Like a phoenix reborn, it bravely defies. With love's gentle touch, it mends the soul, Stitching the wounds, making them whole. So let this poem be a lighthouse beam, Guiding lost souls to hope's serene dream. Cutting, pain, and depression may reside, But through the darkest night, we shall rise.